


Once Bitten

by kuro49



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: M/M, a dash of pyro, don't be tricked by the summary, magneto is a grieving old man, this is really just an excuse to write porn, x3!present, xmfc!flashbacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-16
Updated: 2012-03-16
Packaged: 2017-11-02 00:41:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/363121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuro49/pseuds/kuro49
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As they say. Erik is dying. Charles is dead. And someone invites Magneto to the funeral.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once Bitten

**Author's Note:**

> Magneto is a dirty old man mourning for his mutant hubby for life...

There is no euphoric high.

(Unlike the first time he has pressed his lips over his, fingertips running wild. Eyes unbelievingly blue and still learning how to love a man that isn't his father. A love meant for a woman with soft curves and not a man with taut muscles and jagged scars that run beneath the skin and cuts deeper into the heart.

"Are you… sure?"

"Can't you tell, Charles?"

He presses his forehead to his and murmurs with a voice Charles calls distinct and characteristically Erik.

_This is all I've ever wanted._ )

There is no revelation, only a sense of dread, of knowing because with time, the improbable always becomes the inevitable. It has happened decades and decades back, and it is still happening now.

(His skin is salty, their erections are caught in the tight press of bodies. And they are still clothed even as he pushes him back on to the mattress. They kick the sheets to the ground and kiss their way up the bed before his back hits the headboard and he grinds his hips.

"I just wanted to make sure—" He pants and when their lips brush, it is feverish hot. "—That's all."

"Well, that's what you have this for."

And by this, Erik means Charles' head, always his mind, and by default, his telepathy as well. And then Erik's fingers are pressing along all the pressure points of Charles' scalp as their lips push and their teeth pull.)

There is no—there is nothing when he sees the invitation.

The paper is thick and heavy, almost expensive. The wording simple, plain and black letters on a creamy white, almost distant of the welcoming warmth the Professor has always pride his school in.

He is neither friend or family, and this, this must be the biggest joke the world has involved him in.

(He gasps openly into his mouth, and there are no restraints, not against his wet mouth or those wicked fingers. His mind is pressed against his and the pressure is nearly enough to make them explode. Erik wants to when Charles is hesitant because they are both vulnerable and when the vulnerability is doubled, secrets are brought into the light with no place to hide.

"I do, Charles. Come on."

"But you don't trust me."

His eyes are dark when he looks up from fumbling with Charles' pants, "this isn't about trust."

_So let it go already. I want you._

Charles' past is a sore spot the same way Erik's time under Shaw's care is a bruise that doesn't fade. _Yes, please. This is all I've wanted too._ )

If Magneto has a choice, no one would know.

But there are too many faces that have seen what they mean to each other.

Still he doesn't allow himself to return to the estate he has abandoned decades ago. Neither does he give himself the satisfaction of closure, of seeing the gravestone of a man whose body no longer exists.

Magneto runs a hand down his face, old wiry fingers matching the deep-set lines etched into his features. Because he still sees Charles' face before it all dissipates into gray. When the only thing that remains is the wheelchair, the consequences of his actions too long ago, Magneto knows that the Erik still lurking within will grieve without ever stopping.

 

But this isn't what he means to think about. He doesn't know who had a hand in inviting him to Charles' funeral. But they have no right, he has no right. Not when he, himself, is still alive.

(Charles sucks Erik's fingers into his mouth and it is a distraction.

He wants to object when Charles run his hands over the span of his back. Over a dozen destructive landmarks made without remorse. But Charles pauses, tentative before he bites down on Erik's fingertips with a slow releasing pressure that grounds them both.

_For me, Erik, this isn't about trust. Remember?  
_

He is a horrible storm of bloodshed and distorted metal, a weapon he never wants to become, the monster that lives until the end when all the good in the world dies for him. Erik pulls his fingers from between Charles' lips and it is obscene.

"No, this isn't."

He smiles a smile made of teeth and lips and pushes Charles back until he is leaning against the headboard once more. When his hair falls from being slicked back, Charles pulls his hands away before he can brush it back.

"The way you'll always be, Erik. I don't want you any other way."

Charles looks up from beneath his lashes, kisses his palm and Erik draws back before licking a long wet stripe from wrist to the tip of his middle finger, sucks Charles' kiss to the flat of his tongue.

_For you._

He imagines no one else will ever hear his voice, the one in his mind, the one that Charles calls distinctly his. Erik grips them both between them, slippery fingers coated with Charles' spit. Palm rough as he jerks, slow as he works. Building until there is nothing left but them and that pressure of contact between them.

_For you, I'll do it. I'll do it if it's for you and me, Charles_.)

"You're not really—"

"I'm not going to attend Charles _Xavier's_ funeral." Magneto states as he leans easily back into his chair.

Pyro picks it up and Magneto anticipates it long before the boy decides on it. The lighter in his pocket is skin warm and when he draws it out, the flame is red hot.

The white burns into black. And black fades into ashes.

Erik's expression doesn't change.

(Charles holds his face in his hands, there is no remorse in his eyes but it is close. This is only their first time and it won't be the last time.

"You'll be there, won't you?"

"That's hard to say," Erik knows what he is talking about, what he is trying to get at but he barely knows whether he will stay in this bed tonight let alone the future resting just at bay, "it'll be a long time before it happens."

Charles smiles, shakes his head and ducks his head to press kisses all along the line of his jaw. "You don't know that."

"No, I don't." He doesn't and it may be for the best. "Let's leave it to fate?"

_Stay._ His hands lock around his wrist and the kisses come a little deeper. "I have faith."

And he does.)

Charles is no fool and Erik abandons the helmet in mourning, just because it isn't like him at all.

 

And they are old men when it finally happens.

XXX Kuro


End file.
